The Most Precious Things
by CWHodge
Summary: Something a little different... it's not based on the movie, but it's not original as I used historical characters.


_The Most Precious Things  
_The Titanic Trio:  
Written by Chris Hodge  
Edited by: Stephanie Watson and Karen Walker  
1999  
  
"Line... careful, careful... excellent," Thomas said, softly and to himself, his pencil held gently, as though it were a robins egg. The blueprints in front of him were mostly complete; just a few minor additions left, and he could present them to J. Bruce Ismay, the President of White Star Lines. Ismay had liked the previous designs for the _Olympic, Titanic,_ and _Gigantic_, but they had been his idea in the first place. Thomas had just drawn them. And now, the _Olympic_ was at sea, and the _Titanic_ was just being finished.   
  
But then, that was what Thomas Andrews did best. He had been designing ships since he was 16, under the watchful eye of his uncle, Lord William Pirrie. And he loved his ships, from the smaller steamers to the huge liners. Every line he drew was from his heart and soul. The blueprints in front of him showed that loving meticulation.   
  
A small sound from the doorway of his den made him look up, though. In the doorway stood a little girl in her nightdress, her soft hair hanging down her back and her eyes wide in the soft light of the room. Thomas smiled, "Aren't you supposed to be in bed, Lizzy?"   
  
She smiled herself, an echo of his, and ran to him on her still slightly unsteady legs, "Papa!"   
  
He laughed, picking her up and holding her on his lap, "Hello, little one."   
  
She picked up his pencil and held it out to him, "Kitty?"   
  
"I suppose I can draw that," Thomas said, holding his daughter with one arm and pulling out a new sheet of paper with the other, "A kitty, you say, little Elizabeth?"   
  
She nodded, as he took the pencil from her gently.   
  
He set the pencil down and peered down at her, his brown eyes full of pride, "I could draw a.... tiger kitty," he growled like a tiger, making her giggle, "or a... baby kitty," a sweet, innocent face, "Or... a giant, little girl-eating kitty!" Thomas tickled her, and she shrieked with laughter.   
  
Her father laughed with her, picking up the pencil. He was still chuckling as he drew a cute little kitten; as a hand that was used to the lines of ships now drew the softer lines of a kitty. Elizabeth kept all of the pictures he drew for her, and his quick mind figured out that she would have thousands of them by the time she married and left. He looked forward to the day he would be able to look over the collection with her, and show his grandchildren.   
  
In little time the picture was finished, and he wrote the date in the corner. Elizabeth took it gently, then looked up at him with pure adoration.   
  
"Lizzy, it's time for bed sweetheart," Helen Andrews said from the doorway.   
  
Both Thomas and Elizabeth looked up at her and Thomas carefully set his daughter down. Lizzy went to her mother and showed her the picture, "See? Kitty."   
  
Helen smiled, "Yes, I see, love. We'll put it with your other kitties, but now you have to go to bed. We're going to go to the market tomorrow, and little girls need their sleep."   
  
Elizabeth nodded and went to her room, as Thomas sat in his den. He loved his ships, yes. But he loved his family more than anything. He listened as his wife sang their daughter to sleep, feeling drowsy himself now that he realized how late it was and how long he had been drawing. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, relaxing in the quiet of the house.   
  
"You know, you should be in bed too, Mr. Andrews," Helen said, walking in, "You've been pouring over those designs for hours."   
  
He stood up, stretching, "I believe you're right, Mrs. Andrews," he replied, bringing his arms down around her, "I shouldn't be so engrossed in my work... forgive me."   
  
Helen rested her head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart through his vest and enjoying the subtle smell of the soap he preferred, "You're forgiven..."   
  
"I love you, Helen," he said, out of the blue.   
  
She looked up at him, an unbidden smile taking her face, "I love you too, Thomas."   
  
He kissed her on her forehead and held her close. If someone would have asked him at that moment, in his home with his wife and daughter, whether he was happy, he would have replied, "I'm the happiest man alive."   
  
  
  
  
Belfast was gray, but then, that was fairly common in Ireland. The _Titanic_ sat quietly in Belfast Lough, her sheer size alone stunning. She was a beautiful ship, newly painted and ready for her trials, bearing her name proudly on the bow. And her builder stood on the pier, appraising her with a practiced eye. He had been there when the first keel plates were laid, and as she was built, piece by piece, from the ground up. He was there when the hull was finished, and when they began the finishing work. And now he was here as she was mostly complete, looking at her with pride.   
  
Thomas had built the _Olympic_ as well, and was proud of that ship, but _Titanic_ had a piece of his heart. There were still things to do, corrections to make, and detailing to be done, but she was ready to sail.   
  
And Thomas would be going with her. Lord Pirrie had not been well lately, and bid his nephew to go in his place; a duty Thomas would take to the extremes. Every time he sailed, he carried his notebook to jot down ideas to improve the next design. Little time was spent socializing, but that was the way the designer liked it. He was popular among all classes; first, second, and third, but he enjoyed working most of the time.   
  
"She's beautiful," Helen said, standing beside him with Elizabeth, "She has something the _Olympic_ doesn't."   
  
"Yes," Thomas said, musingly, "An enclosed A-Deck promenade, and 7523 more rivets..."   
  
Helen laughed, "I think you missed my point."   
  
He smiled, sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I tend to look at the technical aspects of things."   
  
"I know... I was there when you asked my parents for their blessing of our engagement, remember?"   
  
He laughed. When asking for their blessings, he had gone into great detail as to how he could support a family, why he wanted to marry her, and exactly what would be involved. They were impressed by his attention to detail, but when it came down to the letter, they were sold on his kind personality. There wasn't anyone who didn't like Thomas.   
  
"You're going to remember to sleep on this voyage, aren't you?" Helen asked, bringing him from his thoughts.   
  
He nodded, "I will. Is there anything you want from New York?"   
  
"Perhaps a few yards of velvet? It's much cheaper there, and I'm planning on making Lizzy a new church dress."   
  
"Certainly," he replied, then knelt in front of his daughter, "You're going to be good while I'm gone, won't you?"   
  
Lizzy nodded solemnly. She knew he'd be back, but she missed him when he left.   
  
Thomas pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her, "I drew you a kitty. And I'll draw you one for every night I'm away."   
  
She hugged him, "Love you, Papa."   
  
"I love you too, Lizzy. I'll be home soon," he replied, hugging her back. She held the kitty drawing to her chest and watched as he stood up.   
  
"I'll miss you," Helen said, hugging him. She was used to this, but there was never a time when she didn't miss him as he went on these voyages. The first few times she had gone along, but after Elizabeth was born, she deemed it wiser to stay at home and wait. He always came home to her in a week or two, and they always celebrated his return by going out to dinner. He would tell of the voyage, she would tell of what happened at home, and then it would be months before he went again.   
  
"I'll miss you too. I'll send you a message if I can, and tell you how it's going."   
  
She hugged him, "Be careful."   
  
He nuzzled her hair, "I will be. I love you."   
  
"I love you too."   
  
Thomas kissed her on the cheek, kissed Elizabeth on hers, and walked away.   
  
  
The ship groaned under the pressure building up in the hull as she tipped more and more to the bow. People were screaming, terrified or the inevitable, running to whatever boat was left, or towards the stern, away from the churning Atlantic water. Objects fell from the mantle of the fireplace, rolling away down the ever tilting floor.   
  
"She'll break soon," Thomas thought, knowing this as he knew he drew breath and as he knew he wouldn't for much longer, "Snap, probably only to the keel... the plates are heavier there." The floor was buckling beneath his feet, and he rested a hand on the mantle, staring into the painting in front of him. Staring into eternity. Even in the panic and chaos, the irony of the painting didn't escape him. _Approach of the New World_. A new world this ship would never see.   
  
He closed his eyes, bowing his head in defeat. He had done what he could to help, and now, in the solitude of the First Class Smoking Room, he allowed himself to reflect. To come to peace, or to find damnation. In the end, there was a little bit of both.   
  
He didn't move as the ceiling started falling, or as the walls cracked and the floor buckled hard. His head bowed, tears in his eyes, he stood and faced the end, his last thoughts of his family.   
  
And the _Titanic_ took her father with her.   
  
  
The news was fast reaching her in Belfast, and for days, Helen was in shock. Elizabeth didn't understand why her Papa wasn't coming home, and even Helen couldn't quite believe it. She went through the motions of day to day life, trying to block out the thoughts. Part of her knew that he would walk through that door and they would go to dinner and this would all just end up being a nightmare.   
  
Part of her knew the truth, as she put his clothes away in their dresser. She held the vest she had made him, looking at it and thinking that he would never wear it again. That there would be no more late nights she chased him away from the blueprints, or buttoned up his jacket before he went to the shipyards. She sat down on their bed, hugging that vest to her and crying.   
  
"Mommy?" Elizabeth asked, concerned, as she stood in the door frame.   
  
"It's OK, sweetheart," Helen replied, wiping her eyes, "Mommy's just a little sad."   
  
"Papa make it better," Elizabeth said, holding out his picture. It had been on the table downstairs.   
  
Helen took it, tears springing anew, "Someday he will."   
  
  
A box arrived a few days later, and Helen opened the door. There was movement inside of it, and she wondered what was in there. She took the box into the kitchen and opened it. Inside was a note, and a small, striped kitten. The kitten mewed and she brought her hand to her mouth. She knew Thomas had gotten this kitten for Elizabeth. Upon hearing the kitten, Elizabeth ran in on her toddlers legs, "Kitty?"   
  
Helen took the kitten from the box and set it on the floor. Elizabeth sat down with it, petting it, and Helen took the letter from the bottom of the box, opening it with a kind of fear. She looked at his familiar handwriting and tears ran down her cheeks as she read.   
  
_My dearest Helen,   
  
I hope you don't mind me getting this kitten for Elizabeth. She should be old enough now for a pet in the house, and I didn't think there'd be any harm in it.   
  
If all goes according the plan, I should be home tomorrow. I thought I'd send the kitten a little bit ahead of me.   
  
Well, actually, I just wanted to tell you that I love you, but the kitten gave me a convenient excuse for prewriting this letter and sending it to you under the pretense of a gift, but that's beside the point.   
  
I'm certain that by now I'll be glad the voyage is ending and I'll probably be bringing several notebooks worth of additions and corrections. So, wherever I am right now and whatever I'm doing, I want you to know that I love you very much and I'll be home soon. Tell Elizabeth I love her too.   
  
Your Loving Husband, Thomas   
  
_


End file.
